


this place was built for moving out

by fangirl_squee



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Other, post TM59
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 22:41:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15229515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl_squee/pseuds/fangirl_squee
Summary: Echo and Gig share a room after the events of the day. Gig tries to talk.





	this place was built for moving out

**Author's Note:**

> after that last episode I _had_ to write this
> 
> title from 'the execution of all things' by rilo kiely, a good/sad post-tm59 echo song

 

“You can have the couch,” says Gig, “I think there’s some blankets around here somewhere.”

 

“Thanks,” says Echo.

 

Their voice is so quiet. Gig’s hands flex for a moment before he puts his mind to searching for some kind of bedding to give them to stop himself from reaching for them. He’s not sure if they want to be hugged right now - actually, he’s not even sure that Echo  _ likes _ to be touched at all.

 

Echo looks up from where they’d been staring vacantly at the booth. “Wait, if I’m taking the couch, where are you going to sleep?”

 

Gig waves a hand towards the pool table. “I sleep under there, so it’s cool.”

 

Echo bends, peering until the pool table at the tangled nest of blankets. “Huh.” They pause. “What do you do when someone wants to play pool?”

 

“I can sleep through it. Gumption’s Gambit was always pretty noisey.”

 

Echo nods, looking back towards the couch. On Quire, even when they weren’t in motion they were always coiled and ready. It’s unnerving to see them so listless.

 

Gig goes up on tiptoes, feelings around on the top shelf of the cupboard -- ah _ ha _ . He knew he had something.

 

“Here,” says Gig, handing them a couple of blankets.

 

Echo just sort of. Holds them, letting the blankets trail on the floor. They don’t move.

 

Gig wishes that Tender were here, or Signet. They were good at talking people through things like this. He presses his lips together, putting a hand on Echo’s shoulder, his fingertips barely touching them.

 

Echo flinches, and Gig quickly draws his hands back. “Sorry! Sorry, you kinda-- do you want to sit down maybe?”

 

Echo lets out a long breath. “Fine.”

 

They sit down on the couch, tilting their head to gesture him to sit next to them. They don’t look at him as he sits though, their gaze dropping to the wall on the other side of the room. Gig follows their gaze.

 

The only sound is the faint creaking of the ship. Gig wiggles his toes inside his boots, trying to think of how Tender and Signet would talk about serious things. 

 

“It’s been a long day,” tries Gig.

 

“Yeah,” says Echo again, their voice taking on their earlier quiet tone.

 

“Yeah, so… How’re you holding up?”

 

Echo huffs a laugh. “How am I holding up?”

 

“Yeah,” says Gig. He pauses. “Listen, if you don’t want to talk to me that’s fine, but like… I’m here to listen. If you want.”

 

Echo opens their mouth and then closes it again. They fiddle with the blankets in their lap. Gig waits, and tries not to fidget too much. Tender and Sgnet wouldn’t fidget.

 

“Today was… today  _ sucked _ ,” says Echo, “We all almost died like ten different times and a lot people  _ did _ die because Even killed them. He could have killed  _ Ballad _ . And he’s not even sorry.”

 

“I wasn’t going to die,” says Gig, “I had it all totally under control.”

 

“You did  _ not _ ,” says Echo, some of their old fire creeping back into their words.

 

“I did so,” says Gig, “I had them right where I wanted them the whole time.”

 

“You almost died the most out of us,” says Echo.

 

“That’s just what I  _ wanted _ them to think,” says Gig, “All part of my plan.”

 

Echo snorts. “Right.”

 

They fall into silence again. Gig taps the toes of his boots together.

 

Echo frowns. “Why are your shoes all wet?”

 

Gig blinks. “What? Oh, they uh, kind of got bl-- got stuff on them when I was cleaning up, so I--”

 

Something flickers over Echo’s face. “You cleaned up?”

 

“It was kind of a mess in there,” says Gig.

 

“You should have made Even clean up the blood,” says Echo.

 

Gig shrugs. “He’s piloting.”

 

Echo’s shoulders are tense. “Still.”

 

Gig shrugs again. He’s not really one for ordering people around.

 

“I just… didn’t want the other guys to come back and have to see that, you know?” He pauses. “Today was kind of messed up, huh?”

 

Echo huffs a laugh, running a hand through their hair. “ _ God _ . You’ve got a real way with words, you know that?”

 

“That’s what people tell me!” says Gig, in his overly-bright stream voice.

 

Echo doesn’t laugh, but he feels them relax a little more into the couch. He copies the movement, being carefully casual about their arms touching, just in case Echo doesn’t want that. They don’t move away, so Gig figures that it’s okay. He flicks a glance at them, looking away as they turn towards him.

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing, just… trying to see if you’re okay,” says Gig.

 

“I’m fine,” says Echo, a little too fast - Gig might not be as good as Tender or Signet but he knows enough to tell that.

 

He curls his toes, thinking for a moment before he carefully --  _ carefully  _ \-- puts his hand over Echo’s where it’s lying on the couch. They look up at him sharply.

 

“Just--” Gig gestures with his other hand, searching for the right words. “It’s okay if you’re not fine. And I’m here if you want to talk about it. Or not talk about it. Or whatever.”

 

They let out a long breath. “Okay.”

 

They sit together in silence for another long moment. Gig fiddles with some loose thread on the couch with his free hand, waiting. Finally, Echo relaxes a little more, their head resting on Gig’s shoulder. 

 

They sigh. “Today really,  _ really  _ sucked, and I  _ don’t _ want to talk about it. If I talk about it or think about it too much I’m going to go up there and punch Even in the face.”

 

“Then we super don’t have to talk about it,” says Gig.

 

“Good.”

 

Gig hums, and squeezes Echo’s hand. He shifts, his body leaning into Echo a little more. It seems like they need it. It must be the right thing to do, because Echo presses their face into the crook of Gig’s neck. 

 

“Hey,” says Echo, their voice partially muffled, “I know you normally sleep under there, but could you-- would you mind staying here for a bit?”

 

“Sure thing,” says Gig.

 

He squeezes Echo’s hand again. Echo shifts, moving their hand so that they can tangle their fingers with his. They squeeze his hand back. Gig smiles. He might not be as good at talking things out as Tender or Signet, but it feels like he did okay on this one.

 

They fall asleep tangled together on the couch, the mismatched blankets draped over them.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi: mariusperkins on most places


End file.
